


Something in the Air

by iRockYourSocks



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alley shagging, F/M, Sexual Situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRockYourSocks/pseuds/iRockYourSocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can feel it, pressing into me. You like it when I hit you, when I’m mad. You’re sick, Prince Zuko,"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something in the Air

There was a spark in the air, a hint of an explosion in the heavens, a dark tension settling over the lands. Aang thought that a storm was rolling in, and a big one at that. He claimed that his Avatar senses were tingling, to which Toph rolled her sightless eyes  because since when does being the Avatar have to do with weather?

Katara could honestly care less, the oppressive heat of this nation of fire and hatred causing her clothes to stick to her skin, her hair to poof and frizz.

Even though the Fire Nation was beautiful, she hated it. She hated the way the too green grass cut her legs and stained her skirts, the white sanded beaches and their pristine shores.

Because, why would a country full of liars and murderers need such beauty?

If she so desired, she could drain the plants of their moisture, leaving empty husks in her wake. Maybe then, she thought, maybe then they’d know what it felt like, what  _she_ felt like, when she lost her mother.

She thought that  _one_ person in this Spirits forsaken nation could understand her,her pain, her grief, over the loss of her mother, but he turned out to be nothing more than a liar, the worst kind of a liar. A liar who opened her heart only to go back and stomp on it and set set it ablaze.

It was so stupid, because she wanted to kiss him, she’d wanted to kiss him  _so bad_.

When she placed her hand on his face, on his scar, she felt his exhale of relief as if it were her own, felt his chapped yet soft lips under her thumb.

That’s the thing about Zuko; he was a contradiction. How can somebody be so prickly and unapproachable, yet give off the aura of a kicked puppy. Maybe that was his plan all along; get her to use up her spirit water on his scar so that his deranged sister could zap Aang full of lightning and continue the bloody war path his forefathers began.

Yeah, he was  _definitely_ the face of the enemy.

Still, as she strolled through the marketplace, carefully avoiding the eccentric papaya merchant (she swears that all of the produce merchants are crazy), she thought she saw armor, but it wasn’t the armor that she’s seen most of the soldiers wear. She shrugged it off, her eyes set on a fish kiosk.

A hand gripped her wrist and pulled her into one of the outlying alleys. Whoever did this was sneaky, because nobody even noticed she was snatched off the street.

She whirled around, prepared to give this person (definitely a man, from the feel of his large, rough hands) and froze in place. 

The person that she’d least wanted to see.

 _Zuko_.

He looked different, with his hair up and his crown in place, but then again, Katara never really acknowledged him for being royalty. Just an obstacle in the way of her learning waterbending and Aang saving the world.

He looked…he looked good. 

And she hated him for that, hated herself for thinking that. Her fists clenched, her face twisting into a scowl. His eyes widened before schooling his expression into an impassive mask.

Katara almost laughed, because Zuko wore his heart on his sleeve. She doubted he’d last long.

"What are you doing here," he asked, leaning against a wall. He kept his eyes trained on her face.

"What are  _you_ doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your marble palace, pillaging villages and ripping apart families?"

He sighed, fingers twitching. “Life at home…life at home wasn’t like how I expected to be." Katara raised her chin at him, offering no sympathy. He continued, “I didn’t think it’d be like this. I’m not…I’m not happy. Like I should be."

"That’s what happens when you make lives miserable." He turned away from her. “No, you’re going to listen! Do you have  _any_ idea what that day put us through, put  _me_ through? You don’t deserve to be happy!" She crossed her arms, anger and irritation set in her expression.

He reached up to his topknot, seemingly having ignored her, and pulled out his crown and let his hair down, his shoulders slouching as if a huge weight had been lifted. “I don’t deserve this," he whispered, staring at the crown in his hand.

"No, you don’t," she seethed.

He still hadn’t turned around to look at her. “What makes you say that?"

She marched in front of him, her palm connected with his cheek. “You’re a liar!" Her shoulders were shaking with fury and she was blinking back angry tears. “Liars don’t deserve anything!"

He was silent, the slap slowly registering in his brain. He could faintly feel the metal of his crown digging into his hand, drawing blood, but that wasn’t his main concern. “You’re right, I’m a liar. But this was never a lie." 

Zuko’s arm shot out, wrapping around her wrist, crashing her into his chest. She could feel his blood dripping down her forearm, but she couldn’t focus on that with his lips so close, his warm breath fanning across her cheeks.

Katara could barely squeak out an  _what the hell do you think you’re doing_ before he forced his lips on hers, burning hot, full of too much anger and passion. She bit at his lower lip, the more pain she inflected the better, maybe he’d feel the pain that she’s been feeling for months.

Spinning, he pushed her into the wall, attacking her lips, pressing his hips into hers. She ripped her mouth away from his, a dark chuckle escaping her mouth. “You’re sick."

He pulled away from her neck, his eyebrow arched in question.

"You know what." Her head lolled on the dirty wall, his tongue sucking a tender spot on her throat. Her voice dropped an octave. “I can feel it, pressing into me. You  _like_ it when I hit you, when I’m mad. You’re  _sick_ , Prince Zuko,"

He growled,  _fucking growled_ , at her, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs, wrapping her legs around her waist. “Shut up, Peasant," he grunted in her ear, his hot breath making her tingle. She arched into him, grinning when she heard his swift intake of breath.

Her heart started racing when she felt it rub against her clothed heat. She moaned at the delicious friction, grinding her hips down into his. His hands started exploring her body, feeling the smooth, brown skin dampened with sweat.

She wanted, no  _needed,_ him to extinguish the inferno growing in-between her legs. It was the least he could do as a firebender, remove the flames from her body.

And it was her job to alleviate the overbearing fever growing in his body. It was her fault, anyway, that he felt like this.

It wasn’t okay for a prince of a ruling nation to like a peasant.

It wasn’t okay for a waterbending master to like the prince of the country that destroyed her family and her home.

But neither could deny the fact that they needed each other.

* * *

The muffled sounds escaping the alley were ignored, with most people going about their business. The dirty, dimly lit alley had nothing of value in it, so it shouldn’t attract any bystanders

For all intents and purposes, Katara still had her clothes on. Granted, her skirts were rucked up, her pants and sarashi were pushed down to her knees, and her top was yanked up to her collarbone, but they were still on.

Zuko was covered up more, but that was against Katara’s wishes. It didn’t really matter, since she couldn’t see him with the way her front was pressed up against the wall.

The only parts on him she could see were his hands roaming her torso and his head, resting on her shoulder. He was still pumping into her erratically, his end near. One hand snaked down between her legs, stroking where she pulsed hot for him.

She clenched around him, body tingling, and she didn’t notice that she was wailing until he clamped a hand over her mouth, nibbling her earlobe in a gesture to tell her that she was too loud, that somebody might check on them.

It felt like her heart was about to beat out of her throat, and that should be painful, but  _Spirits_ she’s never felt better. Her nails were digging into his arm, another wound to add to the collection, but he didn’t seem to mind it.

His hips stuttered out one more jerky thrust before spilling into her, his hoarse groan muffled by her neck. 

They stood like that, panting, trying to catch their breath. Realizing where she was and  _who_ she was with, Katara shoved his hips away (she did not did not did  _not_ whine at the loss of him inside of her) and quickly readjusted her clothes and fluffed out her hair.

Zuko stood there shocked, still dizzy. If he was another person, or this was another situation, Katara might have laughed. The crown prince of the Fire  Nation was standing in a dirty alley with a Water Tribe peasant, pants down, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen.

She marched up to him, yanking him closer by the front of his armor. “You tell this to  _no one."_ Her face didn’t show any signs of distress, but her eyes were pleading.

Unable to find his voice, Zuko nodded, fiddling with his pants and watching her walk away. He grinned like an idiot when he noticed her walking funny.

And Katara blushed when she felt his eyes burning a hole in her back.

"Wait! I, um, I’ll see you again. Soon. And I’m sorry for everything."

She kept walking, her stomach fluttering.

 _Aang was right. A storm_ did  _roll in._

* * *

Katara waterbended Sokka’s mouth shut when he questioned her about the lack of groceries.

* * *

When he showed up at the Western Air Temple after the invasion, she still didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean that her bedroom door was closed.

**Author's Note:**

> From my tumblr, written for Shannon, Elle, and Bean.


End file.
